


Not The Worst Guy

by leviathanchronicles



Series: Richjake Stuff [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Rich is gay, etc etc - Freeform, i actually can't remember if this is supposed to be their first formal date or not, i hate you jake dillinger, my bad - Freeform, so is jake but he's not as nervous so he doesn't count, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviathanchronicles/pseuds/leviathanchronicles
Summary: Fancy restaurants are for people with pretentious jobs, big names, and more money than they need. Thus, Rich is a bit surprised when Jake asks him to go to one.





	Not The Worst Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onlyeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeli/gifts).



> what's up lads this is ! my first time writing richjake ! i'm not too sure about my grasp on either of them, but i'd like to write more in the future.
> 
> this fic was a commission for the lovely onlyeli! speaking of which, she's written an absolutely amazing richjake fic, check that out!
> 
> if you're interested in learning more about commissioning me, you can check out my profile, but feel free to request stories from me whether you commission or not!

Honestly, Rich would’ve been content with fast food, or a movie date that he  _ didn’t  _ hide in the bathroom during, or even just hanging out with the label ‘date’ placed over it. When Jake asks him out, then, and suggests an upscale restaurant, Rich is left beyond flustered. 

He doesn’t comment on how expensive the place is, despite his concerns -- he’s hardly got cash to blow on dates, and by now, everyone’s aware that Jake is keeping his house running by himself. Yes, it’s a matter of concern, but Rich has got plenty else to worry about, all things that inquiring about won’t run the risk of embarrassing someone he doesn’t want to embarrass.

He’s standing in his bathroom, trying to tighten the sleeves on his suit without the resultant wrinkling. He’d taken the suit out of his brother’s closet -- he’d never had a reason to get one for himself, and it isn’t like it was getting used. Unfortunately, it’s too large for him; sure, he wasn’t drowning in the fabric, but it drapes over his body in such a way that makes it obvious it wasn’t made for the person wearing it. Although he knows it’s irrational, he wonders if this is going to set the mood for the rest of night, if the entire date is doomed to fail because he’s wearing something that doesn’t fit him perfectly.

Rich is still pulling at the fabric when the doorbell rings, followed by a quick knock on the door. He trips over the too-long pants in his attempt to race to the door, and despite his quick movement, he still hesitates at the doorway. All in all, it’s a solid minute before he’s able to muster up the courage to open the door, rearranging his clothes the entire time.

Jake is leaning against the porch calmly, as if he hung out in suits all the time and isn’t at all concerned about getting dirt on it. His face lights up when he sees Rich, and he stands up straight -- he also wipes off his suit casually, as if it’s pure coincidence, but Rich notices. Rich also notices, with some relief, how Jake yanks his sleeves down -- a glance at his ankles reveals that the pants are also too short, something no one would notice unless they were looking. This slight, however small, allows Rich to breathe for a moment; if the date completely falls apart, at least he knows that his ill-fitting suit isn’t the only thing to blame.

The entire time Rich is analyzing clothing superstitions, Jake is standing patiently; it can’t be more than a few moments, but Rich still falls back into reality with sudden embarrassment. “Sorry -- uh, should you come in?”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, a painfully obvious fact; he tries to reason that Jake probably doesn’t, either, but this small comfort is destroyed when Jake shakes his head and holds out his hand, ever so smooth.

“We’ve got a reservation. Afterwards, though?” Rich hardly has time to be flustered by the implication that they’ll hang out after dinner before Jake continues, apparently determined to absolutely destroy Rich’s life before he even steps outside. “You should wear suits more often.”

This is simple enough -- Rich just needs to compliment Jake back, it’s easy, and heaven knows he has plenty to good to say about Jake. Unfortunately, his mind disagrees; instead of a sweet nothing, Rich grabs Jake’s hand and all but runs to the car. Yeah, there’s definitely something there to the superstitions.

Rich spends the car ride struggling to respond to Jake, who doesn’t seem at all concerned about any of this. In a way, Rich is glad -- Jake is incapable of allowing any awkward silence -- but he’s also more than a bit annoyed. Why is he the one struggling here, when Jake is acting like this is just another Saturday night?

By the time Jake pulls into a parking space (in a lot that already looks more expensive than any place Rich would ever go to, much less eat at), Rich is tense, his leg bouncing with the accumulation of anxiety and excess energy. Jake unbuckles and smiles at Rich as he exits the car, trying to calm him down; of course, it only makes him more anxious. 

Rich is outside the car long before Jake can make his way around; noticing this, Jake chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought -- I figured I’d open the door for you.” 

Duh. That’s what people do on dates, and here’s Rich, messing up all those romantic plans; it’s amazing Jake is still holding it together, really. Rich does his best to laugh it off, but he’s too high-strung; Jake repairs the moment for what’s gotta be the thousandth time that night, casual as he nods to the restaurant and waits for Rich to start walking. “I’ll get your chair for you, at least.”

Despite the subtle warning, Rich still forgets about Jake’s promise; as they’re being seated, he pulls out his chair, then realizes his mistake just before sitting. Not one to just settle down and forget about this, he makes a quick save, turning to Jake and presenting the seat with a flourish. Of course, he was just getting the chair for his date, like a good guy would -- no forgetfulness here!

Jake accepts the gesture, sitting down and immediately moving his napkin to his lap. Rich, in all his showmanship, remembers a moment too late that he needs to sit down as well; when he does settle in, he’s left hoping that Jake is too occupied with his menu to notice.

The way Jake’s eyes are crinkling when Rich looks across the table makes it obvious he had watched that all play out; there’s no cruelty in his smile, only easy amusement, but Rich blushes nonetheless.

“What are you getting?” The question is intended to hide his embarrassment, but he overthinks it anyways -- of course Jake doesn’t know yet, they got here thirty seconds ago. Hoping to avoid Jake pointing this out, Rich scans his own menu quickly, nodding as though he knew exactly what he’s talking about. “I’m thinking about the rissoto.”

“What’s that?” Jake flips through the menu, finding the dish in question and thankfully sparing Rich the job of explaining the dish -- he knows it involves rice and, judging by the picture next to the entry, a series of spices, but he’d not had time to actually read the description. “Huh. Nah, not for me. I’m like, a chicken strips kinda guy.”

Rich snorts, flipping to the back of the menu. Sure enough, there’s a children’s menu, with chicken strips, macaroni, and similar. He leans over, turning Jake’s menu to the section and tapping it. “There you go!”

Jake pulls the menu closer, studying it before sighing. “I don’t know, man, I think they use real meat in these. I only eat the processed stuff.” Rich chuckles, rolling his eyes, and Jake continues. “Plus, this says you have to be ‘12 and under’ to order.”

The straight delivery makes Rich laugh for real; he has to lean back and cover his mouth to muffle the noise. When he speaks, he’s still slightly choked up and talking through his hand. “Aw, dude, you just missed it!”

With this conversation, the barrier is broken; the rest of the night goes well enough, with the two of them playing off each other and overall not acting like they belong in a fancy restaurant at all. They’re halfway through eating -- Rich ended up getting the risotto out of convenience, and Jake got the spaghetti, reasoning that it’s basically like ordering off the children’s menu -- when Rich thinks of a clever response to the compliment that had so eluded him earlier. Fully aware that the comment makes no sense in this context, but also fully aware that he’ll forget and thus never get a chance to use it if he doesn’t now, he interrupts Jake’s story. 

“Hey, dude, if you wanna see me in suits more, you gotta take me to fancy places more often.” He starts out strong, confident, but begins to falter; by the end, he’s practically mumbling the line. It’s worth it, though, as Jake laughs, the slightest blush coloring his cheeks.

“I’d like that.” And of course, it comes out clear as day, because Jake doesn’t get embarrassed; by now, though, Rich is starting to appreciate that for what it is. He lets the air grow heavy between them, chancing a smile before leaning over to steal a meatball off Jake’s plate; the moment passes, but his chest still burns with the happiness of it all.

* * *

 

It’s Jake’s idea to get ice cream after dinner; Rich agrees without hesitation -- perhaps too eagerly, he realizes moments after. If Jake is put off by Rich’s apparent desperation, he doesn’t show it -- jealously, Rich thinks that he’s probably used to people tripping over themselves to talk to him.

The two are walking with cones piled high, Rich’s speed putting him on course with Jake’s long, lazy steps. The sidewalk is narrow, even just for the two of them, and every so often, Jake’s elbow bumps Rich’s shoulder. Rich (who’d been smart enough to hold his cone in the hand that wasn’t next to Jake) is willing to deal with it for the sheer romance of it all, but soon enough, he gets sick of the constant ducking -- Jake, for his part, doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it, too busy making conversation with passersby and commenting on everything they pass by.

It’s after the fifth nudge in two minutes that Rich shoves Jake’s arm away. It’s meant to be a friendly way of getting Jake’s attention; unfortunately, it works too well, and Jake drops his cone. It does the job -- Jake stops walking, his empty hand hovering as he turns to give Rich an almost wounded look. Rich freezes too, cheeks burning -- to say this is mortifying would be an understatement. 

Before he can choke a response out, Jake laughs, shaking his head. “Dude, if I knew you were so against ice cream, I wouldn’t have suggested we get it!” 

He continues the walk, and Rich catches up, jogging slightly as he tries to balance his own cone. Jake is still smiling with amusement that seems to amplify as Rich shrugs, licking off melted drops of ice cream in a thinly-veiled attempt to avoid eye contact.

Even after cleaning up the initial mess, he’s busying himself with the rest of the cone. He doesn’t notice that Jake hasn’t been speaking until Jake grabs his hand; it’s only then that he realizes they’ve been walking in silence. For a moment, he’s in shock, then he chances a glance over. 

Jake is staring straight ahead, a slight smile still on his lips. The sunset behind him provides a background that makes it feel like he’s posing for a photoshoot, the light framing his features and leaving his eyes sparkling -- Rich is overwhelmed with it and forces himself to look away. A another long moment of mutual silence, and Rich tightens his grip on Jake’s hand. Jake leans into him, and that’s how they walk: Rich, stumbling over his feet, as someone a foot taller uses him as support.

Rich doesn’t realize he’s forgotten about his cone until he gets home and realizes he has to do his best to scrub the melted dessert out of his brother’s suit before he notices it’s missing.


End file.
